


A short horror story for the Canadians

by AuthorReinvented



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canadian, Cute, England cooks, Family, Fluff, Funny, Humour, One-Shot, horror stroy for canadians, poutine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorReinvented/pseuds/AuthorReinvented
Summary: England makes Canada's favorite dish...America helps Canada be brave enough to try it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	A short horror story for the Canadians

England wasnt the best cook, he knew, and he knew his scones were an acquired taste, but that didn't stop him from trying his best to cook for his family. Last week he had decided to make hamburgers from scratch for America, and though America complained that the meet was overcooked, the bun was too dense, and the patty was bland, he'd still had fourths.

This week, England had decided to make something for Canada. It was only slightly related to the fact that he'd mistaken Canada for America three different times yesterday, and according to America, who had told him through peals of laughter, he'd walked by or ignored Canada twice that many times. So it was that England decided to make Canada some of his favourite dish as an apology.

America had volunteered to pick up the ingredients, muttering something about doing his best to save Canada from food poisoning. England had reluctantly thanked him for the frozen fries, mozzarella cheese, and squeeze bottle gravy. He'd never _seen_ squeezable gravy before, but he was certain America knew more about how to make poutine than he did.

He started by baking the chips. That least, was something he considered himself to be good at. When the golden brown and unsalted fries were done, he dumped some of them in a bowl and sprinkled the mozzarella on top. Then, reluctantly, he reached for the squeeze bottle and squuezed the thick goey stream of gravy on top of the fries. He stopped. That didn't _look_ right, but England didn't know enough about poutine to say why. 

America chose that moment to walk in the door, towing Canada behind. Canada wore the look of quiet acceptance, as though he was humouring a child. America wore a face-splitting grin. 

"Yo, iggy, is it done?" 

England looked helplessly at the lumpy gravy and unmelted cheese on top of the hot fries and shrugged. He'd followed all the steps, surely this was close enough. 

"Great!" America beamed, turning to Canada. "England made you a treat!" 

England tried to look modest. "Its poutine." 

"Poutine?" Canada seemed to light up, craning his head to see around America. Then instantly his face changed. "Oh my god." 

Then, without another word, Canada turned and fled. England's face fell. Did it look that bad? He'd tried his best though? America turned into look and see why Canada ran off, and he too blanched upon the sight of the contents of the bowl. 

"Dude, Iggy, the gravy is supposed to be _hot_ , you know that right?" 

How was he supposed to know that? He hadnt been told, and besides, it came in a squeeze bottle! America wasn't waiting for a response. 

"Ill go get Canadia, you nuke that." 

And then he darted out the door after Canada. 

"Nuke" it? It surely couldn't be so bad that the dish needed a nuclear weapon to dispose of the of it! Outside England could hear America's loud vouce, then the raised voice of Canada to match it. His heart sunk further. If _Canada_ was shouting, then he may as well just bomb the dish. America's voice rose louder than Canada's, and England caught the tail end of it. 

"-made it for _you!_ At least try it!" 

Canada's voice dropped back down so in was indiscernable, and it sounded like america was talking to himself when his tone lowered too. 

Finally, America reappeared inside, trailing a rather pale looking Canada, and waving him to the table. 

" Dude, what the hell?" America yelped upon seeing the "poutine" sitting exactly the same as when he left. "I told you to nuke that!"

Before England could splutter out any reasons that was a bad idea, America grabbed the bowl and shoved it in the microwave. Slowly, it dawned on England that America hadn't meant to actually nuke it, only microwave it. 

The microwave beeped, and America deposited the steaming dish into England's hands, pushing him over to the table before England could chicken out. Shyly, England put the dish down in front of Canads, wou looked relieved at the sight of the goopey cheese and steaming gravy.

Canada looked at the dish with an unreadable expression, and if England didnt know him so well he might think he was hiding his feelings. Then, slowly, under England's expectant gaze and America's warning beam, Canada carefully twisted his fork in the thick gravy, scooping up fries and cheese and gravy in one bite then bravely depositing it in his mouth.

The fires had the obvious texture of baked frozen fries, gone limp from their time in the microwave and with no salt to speak of. The gravy was obviously canned and not fresh, and poutine is supposed to be made with cheese curds, not mozzarella. The taste itself was enough to tell Canada England had made it, and that thought made him choke up. England had remembered Canada long enough to attempt to make his favourite dish, and Canada didn't even care that it was subpar.

"It's great." He choked out, wiping a tear out of his eyes and meeting England's worried face with a beam that could almost match America's. "Its really great, England. Im so happy!" 

England lit up light a Christmas tree, his eyes shining and shoulder going back up confidently. America clapped him on the shoulders, but for once, stayed silent. Canada took another bite of the not-quite-right dish, and smiled so hard it felt like his face was splitting. Maybe this is why America liked England's cooking so much. Its not the food itself, but the thought that counts. 

Canada thought that was the best poutine he'd ever had.


End file.
